


Don't Jog at Night

by ick_yy



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Bad Decisions, Injury, Self-Indulgent, scouts a bit of an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:53:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27850346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ick_yy/pseuds/ick_yy
Summary: scout fucks up his ankle, and then makes a series of bad decisions! just some more self-indulgent stuff. the title is a reference to the minecraft parody of a similar name.
Kudos: 16





	Don't Jog at Night

Being stuck in one spot sucked. Especially for Scout.

He’s spent his entire life just on the move. It might’ve been growing up with seven rowdy older brothers, or the undiagnosed ADHD, or just his natural habit of avoiding all his problems by dipping. Who could tell at this point? He learned at a pretty young age that the world didn’t wait for nobody, and that he’s gotta get quick on his feet to do what he wants. And you know what he was? He was quick on his feet. The quickest. In fact, he was so quick, that it was his freakin job. Get in fast, make an impact, and get OUT fast. Perfect for the guy who’s always gotta be on the move somehow.

Except, all that was fucked over by one misstep. You’d think that for someone who runs around dangerous areas at top speed as a living, he’d have pretty good footing, right? He wouldn’t be much of a person to fall too much, right? Wrong, apparently. While on a jog the previous night, he’d waited a little too long to get going, and ended up heading out when it was a little too dark outside. Who would’ve guessed that it’d be harder to see holes in the ground? By complete luck, his foot managed to go straight into one of those holes, and with a crack that made his stomach churn, he was on the floor in seconds. He’d wiped it off as a small fall at first, but by the time the adrenaline wore off, it hurt like a bitch. He prided himself on having a pretty good pain tolerance, but Jesus CHRIST. He bit his tongue and assessed the damage - it was bent in a pretty bad way. Now, he’s no doctor, but last time he checked? His ankle never bent like that before. With unsteady breaths, he pushed himself up, nearly toppling over again after trying to stand on the screwed up ankle. I mean, it’d be better by the next morning, right? That kind of shit could heal overnight.

He doesn’t exactly remember how he got back inside. He’d assume probably a mix of hopping on one foot, maybe a little hobbling. Yeah. That didn’t look as lame as it did in his head, right? Right. He didn’t have the capacity to look like an idiot. But, here he was, lying in his bed. The throbbing pain woke him up sometime around 5, and he thought that meant it was healing! It really meant the opposite. Pulling the blanket off of his legs, he was met with a super swollen and really badly bruised ankle. Yeah. That ain’t healed. But there was no way in HELL he would go and ask for help. Partly because his ego was just a tad bit too damaged - asking for help would just damage it worse, and partly because it’s not like he could go and ask for help if he wanted to. What would he do, crawl out there? Yeah right, he’d rather you shoot him in the head. So, in turn, here he was. Lying in silence on his bed. Someone would notice he wasn’t out and about eventually, right?

\-----------

At some point, he fell back asleep for a bit. He wasn’t exactly tired, just bored. And sleeping seemed like a better alternative than ‘Sit here and think!’ for who knows how long. Who even did that junk? Most of the times Scout just sat on his own and thought about shit, he was either beyond bummed out or homesick - neither of which he was right now. But, when you're straight up dying from a screwed up foot, you don’t exactly get much sleep in. And to make matters worse, he was growing increasingly restless. He’s always gotta be moving something, fidgeting with something. When he can’t fall asleep some nights, he’ll get up and pace for a good 5 minutes every once in a while just to get it out of his system. But, obviously, he can’t exactly do that right now. Tapping his fingers together was growing increasingly useless, and at this point, he’d classify himself as full on miserable.

Part of him wishes he actually went to go bother Medic about it last night. Doc’d fix him right up, nothing to worry about, yeah? But no, he decided to sleep it off. Well he’s got a sneaking suspicion that you can’t sleep this shit off anymore. He’s definitely had his fair share of injuries, but this one just really sucks.On the bright side? All of the complaining to himself helps keep his mind off the stuff he really doesn’t want to think about. Stuff like insecurities, self-doubt, all the good stuff that really gets him down. down. Except, thinking about how he ISN’T thinking about that stuff really wasn’t the best idea. And now, that’s all that's on his mind. Great. Honestly, going ‘Man, I sure am glad I’m not thinking about this exact thing!’ wasn’t the best plan. That’s the gateway to thinking about that exact topic. But, you know, he doesn’t exactly think these things through. Or pretty much anything through. Ever. He’s more of an acting on impulse kind of guy, and it works out for him MOST of the time. And the times it doesn’t, he’s smooth enough to just play it off like normal, so it doesn’t exactly matter anyways. 

Having the skill to be able to play stuff off that smoothly really didn’t matter when he was alone in his room, though. What’s he gonna do with his incredible charm in this situation? Assure himself that it was ‘all part of the plan!’ and he had it totally under control? I mean, that’d work on anyone else, but it’s a little hard to use the same old tricks that you came up with on yourself. Its not like he could bullshit himself into thinking he had a plan - how would that even work? ‘Yeah, Scout’s got a plan! Don’t you worry a hair on your handsome head, Scout!’? It didn’t have the same effect, that’s for sure. 

And, honestly, he’d probably have to come up with a plan sooner or later. It’s not like he had the ability to stay there forever, physically OR mentally. He was already growing sick of the same ceiling he’d been looking at for what feels like an eternity, his bones were aching to get up and get moving. Well, most of his bones were aching for that reason. He can think of one that was aching for a completely different reason. As for physically, he doesn't know what could happen if he just sat there. For all he knows, the bruising could start spreading up his leg or something like that. Was he even sure that was a possibility? Not at all. But, it could be, for all he knows!

He winced as he pushed himself into an upright position, trying to keep his injured leg as still as possible. The absolute bullshit part of that was when you want to keep a body part still, every other part of your mind tells you to move that part as much as humanly possible. He knows it's just some weird ass idea floating in his mind that he shouldn’t listen to, but that didn’t help him whatsoever. He carefully turned to hang both feet off the side of his bed, making a grab for the metal bat he kept propped up against the nearby wall. Look at him, being all smart and resourceful! He’s got this all under control now, that's for sure. Well, he’s got part of it under control. His only plan was to prop himself up with the bat and try to go find someone. How exactly he was supposed to get around like that was still.. A teeny tiny bit of a mystery to him. He’d look real stupid hopping around on one leg, there was no way he’d be doing that. Limping would make him look like some dumb old guy - like Spy. Spy didn’t have a limp, but he was definitely a dumb old guy. No way Scout was gonna look like him.  
So, He was left with one solution. Suck it up and walk on it like a tough guy would! If there was anything Scout was for sure, it was a tough guy. It couldn’t be that hard to use the foot now, right? I mean, all that swelling’s gotta help with the balance down there. One step on his bad leg proved him wrong pretty fast - that hurt like a BITCH. He probably would’ve fallen over if it werent for the fact that he immediately shifted his weight to the other side of his body. Not as easy as he thought it would be, he’ll admit. But Scout doesn’t give up, that’d mean he sucks. He can do it, right? He’s just gotta suck up the pain and walk. I mean, he’s walked tons of times. Bajillions. He can do it this once too, right? Right! 

It might’ve taken him nearly three minutes just to get to the door at the end of his room, but that’s a secret. I mean, who else could do that with almost minimal tears and a couple near-wipeouts? Nobody else, that’s who. His ankle might be throbbing way more than it should be, and it might slowly be losing feeling, but that’ll just make it easier to get to where he needs to go. Which is wherever Medic is.


End file.
